“It’s all right.” She gave him a small smile. “You should get some rest.”

She moved to his side and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. The night sky was inky and pricked with starlight, the air dry and cool. In spite of the persistent chill, Ares wore short sleeves and his skin was hot and damp to the touch, almost feverish.

He let her lead him out of the bridge, down to level two, and all the way to his quarters.

“Caledonia,” he said just before entering his room. “Fivesons will do anything for the Father. They will go after whatever the Father most wants in all the world. After what you did for us in Slipmark, I have to think that thing is you.”

When the door was shut, Caledonia let darkness and silence wrap her in a welcome cocoon. Her mind was brimming and her heart was, too. It was almost too much for one night.

But if Ares was right, then her surest way to Donnally was through Aric himself.

Chapter Thirty-seven

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Caledonia lay on her back beneath the sun sail studying its black plates. They flashed in the sunlight, luffing ever so slightly in the breeze, and when there was no breeze, they trembled with the vibration of the ship’s engines. One alone was virtually useless, but taken together, they were the most powerful piece of equipment on any ship.

Even with power restored, they couldn’t do anything about the water on level three, and it was going to take four days to reach Cloudbreak. Four days of reduced rations, a diminishing water supply, and a web of tension strung between Oran and nearly everyone else on the Beacon. Even her own crew seemed to move around him with more care. Whether that was because they’d heard the name Steelhand or because he had changed so dramatically around the Bullets, she wasn’t sure.

She had to admit that his ability to transform was unnerving, and it made her recast him in her memory. He’d come aboard her ship to escape, and then he’d become exactly who he needed to be to survive. If it was true of the Oran she’d first met, it was certainly true of the Oran the Blades knew. And it left her with a question that hummed quietly in the back of her mind: Which was the true Oran?

They were in day three of this journey, and the crew was showing signs of exhaustion. Caledonia was no exception. She’d been in the rigging of the sun sail when her head flooded with a disorienting lightness. She’d climbed down at once and lain here where she could catch her breath.

A hand landed lightly on her wrist, fingers pressing flat against her pulse.

“I’m fine, Hime,” she protested, but she was too tired to resist.